MOONBUTTT-JOHNLOCK: Her
by moon-buttt
Summary: Based off of the Season 3 teaser, Sherlock finally has the ability to reveal himself to John. The reaction? Not what you expected. John had changed, and Sherlock is willing to bring him back from silly suits, ridiculous mustaches, and annoying girlfriends. (More than 1 chapter)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sherlock was struggling. After three long years of planning and waiting and hoping and wanting, he finally had the chance to see his best friend, but no words would form in his mouth. No words could he taste on his tongue. So he struggled against panic.

Of course, he wanted to see John before anyone else, and he knew how the doctor would react. He wouldn't faint. He wouldn't scream. John would throw a punch; he had been in the military. Sherlock had promised himself that he would have something to say by the time he entered the restaurant, but as he was rounding the front hall, nothing came to mind and he could just barely feel John's fist hitting his cheek.

Sherlock whipped his coat off and wrapped it over his forearm, his mouth slightly agape, hoping words of explanation would tumble out, because there sat John.

Sherlock stood about a yard from the table, but John didn't seem to notice, so he strode forward and sat down. John didn't even look up as he spoke, wine glass an inch from his lips.

"Excuse me, that seat is taken..." John sipped a bit of wine, but then sprayed it all over the table clothe.

Sherlock smiled and brought his hands up, shaking them. "Not dead."

John clenched his jaw and frowned until finally, his lips pursed like he always used to do.

"What?"

"I said I'm not dead." Sherlock raised his hands again and shook them, jutting his chin out and raising his eyebrows for effect. He had learned that deaf people clapped by shaking their hands, and he liked how it looked.

"No. No." John was shaking his head and his cheeks were flushing. That ridiculous mustache looked so in the way. Sherlock wasn't expecting a furry caterpillar on his friend's face when they met.

"Yes, actually. You're not going to freak out? I thought I knew you."

Sherlock actually _was_ a bit surprised. Had John changed from the jumper wearing, tough army doctor he knew, into a suit wearing, wine drinking date? The only reason he thought that John was here, was for a date. This was _the_ restaurant to bring a date to.

"No, I've changed. I met someone."

"Met someone? A woman?" _Who?_ he growled in his head.

"Mary."

Sherlock clapped his hands on the table. "You're meeting her tonight, at one of the fanciest restaurants in the town. With a ring?" He glared at a few other couples eating here, not wanting to make eye contact with someone he knew he could stare at for hours.

"No. Not tonight. We've only been going out for a month. I do eventually want to get married, and I think I'll propose here, but I want her to get used to the place I propose to her in." John was blinking a lot, and looking down at his wine. He was holding back tears.

Sherlock on the other hand, had to look away because of the grin growing on his face. Not proposing. Good. Once he managed to hide his smile, Sherlock looked back with a serious expression.

"You want to marry her?"

"She's the one, finally the _one_." He smiled and rolled his wine glass around, swishing the liquid inside. John chuckled. "I thought you were the one once." Sherlock knew he wasn't supposed to hear that because it was whispered in the quietest voice ever.

Sherlock inhaled quickly. "What's with the mustache?"

"Mary liked how it looked."

"Where's your jumper?"

"The only jumper I ever where now is the one Mary made me."

_Mary. Mary. Mary. Shut up about Mary._

John shook his hand around in the air and then pointed it at the table, tapping the clothe and chugged back some wine. "How are you not dead?" John coughed and then looked at him with a big frown.

Sherlock brushed his suit and shrugged. "I just switched the bodies. Remember the gas that was used on us in Baskerville? I used it again on you and everyone else. You saw what you expected to see, and the others followed your lead."

Sherlock felt a twitch at the edge of his mouth and smiled. "It's good to see you John."

"Yeah, well, I never thought I'd see you again." John scrunched his face and sniffed, which made the mustache even more noticeable and annoying.

A lie popped into his mind. "John, this is the only night that I am free to show myself. I have waited three years for this, so spend it with me?"

John started playing with his fingers, tapping them on the table and picking under the nails. "I have a date."

"Please, John. It's been three years. Please."

"Why is tonight the only night?"

"Moriarty sent assassins after me before he died. They're calling it a rest for today, but return to watch tomorrow." He had killed those assassins long ago, dealt with them easily. Only recently had he been able to hack into the media data and erase all files on himself.

John huffed out a breath and leaned over, shoving his hand into his pocket and glaring at Sherlock. "I hate you." He shook his finger disapprovingly at him and started tapping on the cell keys.

"Thank you, John."

A moment later, they were rushing out of the restaurant, keeping a good distance between each other. Sherlock tried to get closer but John would swiftly move away.

He hailed a cab and the two climbed in once one arrived.

Sherlock finally grabbed John's hand out of frustration and rushed up the stairs to his old flat. Oh, how he missed home. Sherlock wasn't aiming to enter the living room, instead he was going to the bathroom.

John seemed like a dead weight behind him, stumbling after Sherlock and not uttering a word until they reached the bathroom. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" His voice cracked like a school-boys'.

Sherlock smiled and forcefully twirled John around so that he had the doctor tight against his body with an arm firmly strung around his neck. It was the typical strangle, but Sherlock wasn't choking the life out of his friend, he was just holding him in place for a moment.

John struggled and let out little cries. "Guh...Sher..Geff..off..." And other such things.

Sherlock squatted down to a lower cupboard, which sent John flying to the floor and then scrambling for a hold. He rummaged around old boxes until he found the box that held shaving cream and a straight razor.

Sherlock knew that John would struggle, so he tightened his grip until John wasn't moving anymore. Of course, he wouldn't kill his best friend, he just didn't want to hurt him while he got ride of that terrible mustache!

He placed the shaving utensils next to the sink and dragged John to the edge of the tub and sat on top of him. Then if he tried to move, he couldn't.

Sherlock would have to move quickly, so he turned the shower nob slightly, as to let a little bit of water flow, then, as fast as he could, sprayed the shaving cream all over John's chin and lip.

It was difficult to shave another man, especially sitting on his lap, but Sherlock managed, and just in time.

John groaned and started to move his hands. Sherlock reached down and stopped one of the hands, then shaving off the last bit of John's hideous mustache.

He quickly filled his cupped hand with water and splashed John's face, washing the rest of the cream away. Sherlock slid his thumb over John's lip until he could hold the doctor's chin.

Sherlock raised John's head and leaned down to kiss him, but was stopped.

"Sherlock, don't." John's voice was stern and his eyes were fire balls.

Sherlock's eyes filled with wetness and he hovered above John's lips. He realized now that he had completely pinned John down, binding his wrists to the floor with his own strong hands, and his body pressed against John's.

Sherlock didn't understand why John wanted him to stop. There had been friction between them ever since they started working on cases. Was it Mary? _Mary._ The name felt like lava running down his throat and his heart thudded heavily against his ribcage. He missed John so much!

Sherlock had been waiting over John, thinking about Mary and hating her, but now was tightening his body all over. John realized it and tried to get his hands free. However, Sherlock's grip was tight and painful.

Sherlock's wet eyes pooled over and tears ran from his face as he ferociously kissed John. The doctor gasped and lay still, simply receiving with no reaction.

Between short gasps for air, he growled words. "Is..it..her?"

Sherlock released one of John's hands and clenched John's neck instead. John's free hand scraped at Sherlock's choking grip. "No." He rasped.

Sherlock hunched forward and wrapped two hands around John's throat. The forward motion and weight slid them onto the ground, instead of leaning against the tub. Sherlock bit John's lip and kissed him one last time.

Tears were running quickly down his cheeks and he let go of John.

The doctor wheezed and heaved and choked for breath. He panted: "Sherlock, it's you."

Sherlock scrambled back and rested his elbows on his knees, head against his forearms as tears pattered on the tile ground. "How? What am I doing wrong?"

He felt a small touch at the edge of his hand and looked up to see John taking his hands. The doctor edged forward and sat in criss-cross. Sherlock did the same, but wept with an occasional sniffle.

"Sherlock, you never do anything wrong. You're perfect."

John looked at his lips and up again. The searching glare in his eyes were like magnets and Sherlock leaned forward, only staring at the doctor's lips.

John released one of his hands and put it on Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock leaned into his hand and closed his eyes, blessing John's touch. How long had he waited for this.

He had once been so under control. He could summon tears when he wanted, or smile when he needed to. This was ridiculous, streaming tears and making love-leading actions. John was messing with his mind.

And now he was messing with his hair. John twirled a curl and reached up his second hand to mess with even more with his hair. Now with his hands free, Sherlock reached for John's hips and opened his eyes.

"I don't-"

Sherlock was cut off by John's lips, laying a delicate kiss over his lips. The action was nimble, and very simple, but it took Sherlock's breath away. His heart stopped pumping and he heard only the sound of John's kiss finish.

"Sherlock, I don't care what you think or need or want. I'm so happy you're back." Now it was John who was crying. Things were getting back to normal.

Or better than normal. John's lip was clean from any mustache and he was tearing, Sherlock was home and not sobbing, and they were together.

Sherlock gently pressed his forehead against John's, knowing their lips were only a short distance from each other. He felt like he had never kissed John in the first place, and _this_ was their first, exciting, breath-taking kiss.

Sherlock tipped his head and pressed his lips against John's lips, groaning when John finally kissed back with a passion.

Such heat and friction. John rubbed his chest and Sherlock rubbed his hips. But the only thing they could think about was what was happening between their faces.

Somehow they pulled away and John stood up quickly, knowing that would break them apart. However, Sherlock followed. He stood up just as quickly and slid his hand into place beside John's face.

He tipped the doctor's face and kissed his slowly, breathing in the sweet scent of his friend..or, more than friend. "John, I missed you." John pulled at Sherlock's belt, which brought their bodies closer.

"I missed you, Sherlock."

"Apparently too much!" A shrill, and loud voice sounded from behind Sherlock and he grabbed onto John to keep him close.

John's head popped over Sherlock's shoulder, and his eyes widened. He made a move to get away from Sherlock, but the Detective had him in a tight grip, kissing his neck.

John stared at Mary, frantically trying to get away from the other man.

"Sherlock, let me go!"

"Oh no, no, you'll need him once I leave!" Sherlock grinned, knowing the woman was sobbing. _Good, she should leave and take her pitiful crying with her._ "You'll need someone to give you some sort of pleasure only a woman can give!" Her voice was fading and John struggled to escape.

Sherlock released him and John pushed him against the sink, stumbling after his girlfriend. "Mary! Please, Mary! It's not what it looks like!"

"Oh no, it's exactly what it looks like." Sherlock whispered once he knew John was far enough away not to hear.

Sherlock pulled the cuffs of his coat up and grinned, striding into the living room to where John and Mary were squawking at each other.

Mary, of course, was making most of the sound.

"Why didn't you just tell me you ditched me for some.." She glared at him. "..coat man!" She apparently didn't know who he was.

Sherlock now looked at the tiny lady. She was pale and blonde, and had a fierce mood at the moment. She looked like she enjoyed dressing up in fancy clothes. She was definitely very feminine.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped forward into place beside John.

"Do you know who I am?" He interrupted John and looked at Mary, disgusted by everything he saw.

"Do I need to know? Will you be staying? You should not be with my John." Mary reached out to John's hand and took it, pulling the doctor with her. She jutted her tiny chin out.

Sherlock let his jaw open, and looked at the ground. "I suppose I don't need him. Let me say goodbye?" He didn't let John, or Mary choose.

As swift as lightning, Sherlock grabbed John's pants and pulled him into an embrace. With a strong hand, he grabbed John's hair and gave him a meaningful kiss on the lips while Mary watched.

John was surprised as well, gasping and grabbing Sherlock's shoulders. He blinked and shook his head, stepping away towards Mary. A single glance into Sherlock's eyes told him that John had been caught.

Sherlock grinned and put both his hands behind him, nodding at Mary. "I'll be off."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

John rubbed his eyes and sat back into the couch. What a day! First, he reunited with Sherlock, who he thought was dead. Second, Sherlock had kissed him! And third, Mary was leaving him alone for a week. He felt like all of his relationships were suddenly in a storm.

Now he sat in the dark, just relaxing, when he heard a thump in the other room. Startled, John reached for the nearby cupboard, finding his gun. Mary never liked guns around the flat, but since she wouldn't be around for a bit, he'd brought it out.

Quiet as a mouse, John crept across the room and into the hallway, passing through a few doors until he met the room where the sound came from. Sherlock's room.

John steadied the gun on his wrist and opened the doorknob slowly. The window was open, and a soft breath of wind moved the blinds. They waved around, casting dancing shadows all around the room. He didn't realize that one of the moving shadows was a human.

Strong hands swooped under his arms and to his head, squishing his arms so that they were immobilized. John released the gun so that it fell to the floor.

A familiar smell wafted from the stranger and he was released. Sherlock took a step back and closed the door. "Surprise!"

"What the hell, Sherlock?"

"I saw the gun and didn't how you would react, I only had seconds to move."

John stared at him, smiling with his mouth open until he looked at the ground. His smile disappeared and a strong look of guilt replaced it. "Sorry." Had he really changed so much, that even Sherlock couldn't trust him?

John wiped the guilt away and sat down on the bed, smiling at him. "I though you were off?"

"I have some time to spare." He sat down beside John.

The doctor blinked and shook his head slowly, looking down at his lap where his hands rested. "You'll be gone tomorrow."

If John had been looking at Sherlock, he would've seen the hint of regret. John still believed Sherlock's life was in danger.

"Yes."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to spend my free time with you." Sherlock took his hands. "I have been waiting three years to see you."

"Sherlock." John raised his eyes and leaned forward. The cool breeze. The dark room. The slight light of the moon outside, pouring into the room. It was so romantic.

Before they could kiss, John bounced off the bed and slammed the windows shut. He knew what he wanted. The shades made a zipping sound as he shut them.

John reached for Sherlock's chest and pushed him back, climbing on and kissing his lips. "Sherlock, I want this."

Sherlock broke free, smiling like wild. "Mary hasn't..yet?" He groaned as John kissed his neck and undid the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Forget about Mary." Her name did bring up a memory, of something that he kept around just in case she acted like she loved him. John reached over Sherlock to the drawer next to Sherlock's bed. He put it in every room, even Sherlocks'.

John felt a wild sensation run through his body as he thought of the next few moments. He tossed the bottle of lube next to their bodies and went back to pleasing Sherlock.

The Detective was struggling not to rip off his clothes, and John could see it. Sherlock had really waited and _waited_ for this.

John popped all of the buttons out on Sherlock's shirt and tugged it away, undoing his own stupid buttoned shirt while Sherlock tugged at his pants.

John threw the shirts away and planted himself against Sherlock, kissing and biting his lips. He kissed Sherlock's neck, then his chest, then his belly.

Once he was at Sherlock's pants, he unbuckled them and looked up at Sherlock, pulling them off slowly. Sherlock bit his lip and clawed at the mattress. Being patient was killing him.

As slow as a slug, he finally pulled them off and around Sherlock's feet. He reached forward and snapped the waistband of the underwear, which shocked Sherlock back into attention.

Sherlock reached up to John. The Detective's hands wrapped around his neck and John fell down, still fumbling with his pants. A click here and there, and John whipped them off. Sherlock pulled his underwear off.

Sherlock bit on his lower lip and grabbed at his hair. "John.."

John pushed himself up and reached for the lube, popping it open. He gently picked at his underwear until they were off, then he squirted the clear gel onto his hands and lathered himself. The touch was surprisingly cold.

Sherlock had closed his eyes. John wiped his hands on the bed sheet and reached down, laying his lips close to Sherlock's ear. "Tell me why you came."

His neck tensed as John steadily put himself into Sherlock.

A thin whisper of words exited his tight lips, but John couldn't hear.

He rocked faster, feeling the strength in himself arise. He had never felt so alive. "Tell me why you came." John said louder.

Sherlock groaned and huffed, and still a little whisper of words trailed from his lips again. John couldn't hear.

John grabbed Sherlock's hands and pulled them over his head, fucking faster. "Tell me why you came!" He shouted.

Sherlock's body jerked and he grabbed back at John's hands. "I came because I love you!" Sherlock screamed back.

John smiled and went back to rocking slowly. His lips met Sherlock's and another burst ran through his body. Sherlock was kissing back. Their lips were mashing together while their bodies did the same, John leading more.

The doctor released one of Sherlock's hands and ran it down Sherlock's body, grabbing his penis and sliding his hand up and down. While he did that, he also sped up his rocking motion.

Sherlock groaned louder. The bed creaked underneath them.

John let go of Sherlock and simply thrust forward, again, and again, and again, and again. He felt on fire while Sherlock moaned underneath him.

John pulled out and pushed back in just as he cam, a thrill which he hadn't felt in a long time. Sherlock's hands had a very tight grip on the bed and he was squeezing the life out of the blanket.

John pulled out one last time and crawled up beside Sherlock. The Detective was sweating, as he could see from the moon's faint light. John brought his hand up and brushed his bangs out of his face.

"You love me?"

Sherlock let out a small laugh and rolled over. "I guess I do." He reached forward and pecked John's nose. "And after that, I must ask the real question."

John edged closer, kissing Sherlock's lips and touching noses. "What's that?"

Sherlock put his hand on John's face and stared at him for the longest time. At last, he spoke a soft question.

"Do you love _me_?"


End file.
